Desert Diplomacy
by Rebec'Sai
Summary: A Demacian noble and her bodyguard attempt to make their way across the Shuriman desert on a mission of diplomacy with the newly awakened city of Shurima. They did not count on an encounter with the legendary Xer'Sai known as Rek'Sai during their travels. Warning: Graphic Violence
1. Chapter 1: Desert Town

Her world had been that of order and structure for as long as she had known. Crisp white marble buildings built upon grid pattern roads. Everything had a place, everything had a purpose. That was the way of Demacia, and she would not have had it any other.

This was not Demacia. The streets wound in nonsensical patterns, buildings cropped up like urchins on a ships hull and looked half as sturdy. The people milled around in stinking crowds, most not even looking at her when they barged past on whatever errands they considered so important. The air was filled with the shouts of merchants, only some of which she could understand. The scent of spices and even stranger foodstuff clung heavily to the market square too, the mix of sensory data swirling together into a roiling mass of chaos and confusion that was the complete antithesis of all she had known in her early life. The best she could do was stand to the side and try to make sense of all the sights and sounds before her. It had been in this moment of attempted concentration that a heavy hand had landed on her shoulder, the firm but measured grip giving her troubled mind an anchor to latch onto.

She half-turned, looking up over her right shoulder at the hooded figure that held her. Staring down, half swathed in shadows, was the familiar face of her bodyguard Antonious. He was a handsome man, or at least he had been. During a particularly disastrous attempt at negotiating with a Noxian household he had successfully extracted herself and her retinue at the time, bar one portly clerk that simply hadn't run fast enough, a feat which most would have struggled with. The price he paid had been a vicious axe blow to his helmet, one that had parted the Demacian steel and struck the flesh beneath. The scar ran from the top of his right eyebrow and ended just to the right of his chin. It was an ugly thing, still redraw even after six years of service since the event. His eye had been claimed by the blow, a patch of iron had been bolted to his skin over the empty socket in place of a simple eye patch much to her own dismay. He had requested the treatment himself, a brief grumble about added protection being the only answer she could prise out of the stoic giant. He had barely spoken before the wound, now with the right side of his mouth a gnarled mess she was lucky if she heard him say a word once a fortnight. Still, there wasn't a single man in her families guard that she would rather have by her side on assignments such as this.

She shrugged her shoulder, Antonious's hand retreating back into the folds of his hooded cloak at the subtle move. Compared to her slight form her bodyguard was practically a Barnhouse of a man. Easily reaching six foot five with a broad chest to match. The cloak he was using to keep the blazing sun off his back, and as a poor attempt to hide the fact he was adorned in full plate armour, could have been used as a small tent she was sure. After mentally pushing away the distracting thoughts she turned back to the crowd, moving off at a sudden brisk pace.

The two spent many hours that day asking around the desert town, their only goal to secure a means of transportation from the fringe settlement to the heart of the desert and the newly reawakened city of Shurima. She had a rudimentary grasp of the tripe that passed for language in this place, enough to understand that every man, woman, and child wanted nothing to do with her. It made sense, in a frustrating and petulant way. Two foreigners asking to be taken across the desert seemed simple enough, but the stories and rumours surrounding the path to Shurima told of pain and woe for all but the luckiest of souls. Of course, they did not know this, only that each caravan master, trader, or merchant they had approached had refused each and every offer she had given them. As the day progressed the sky turned from blue to yellow, to a deep heady red as the sun lay heavy and low. Night had begun to fall and with it the quiet of empty streets.

Frustration had already set in at this point. It was the third day they had spent at the fringe settlement since their arrival. Travel had been simple enough up to this point, but it seemed that overcoming the final hurdle of transportation would be more troublesome than expected. She trudged back through the winding streets to the shoddy inn the two were staying in. The constant looming shadow of Antonious staying close behind at all times. The clink and scraping of hidden armour were enough to keep most of the street urchins at bay, however, the first night they had been out after dark had been a different story. The sands had stained red the morning after, the bodies of three dishevelled would-be thieves littering a back alley. All three had nearly been cut clean in two by what appeared to be a single sword stroke by a monstrously strong opponent. It hadn't been long before the bodies were taken away, the constantly shifting sands doing the rest to hide what was left of the nights' conflict. She had thought there might have been consequences to that, but this was not Demacia, and no love was lost for street trash.

Turning the final corner to the inn, the huge hand of Antonious stopped the smaller woman in her tracks. There was a figure lurking in the shadows of the building ahead, similarly cloaked as they were. Their breath fogged out on the freezing night air giving away their position, though from their stance it didn't seem like they were trying particularly hard to escape detection. A quick glance was shared between the travelling companions before Antonious stepped forward towards the shady figure.

"Greetings"

Shiandra's voice pierced the cool night air, her noble accent the complete antithesis of the gruff local populace. The figure did not move, only a slight shifting of fabric betrayed the turning of the head to face the approaching Antonious.

"How might we assist you on this fine night, my mysterious fellow?"

Her tone was light, but the sound of metal against leather as Antonious loosened his great two-handed sword in its sheathe was enough to show that the pair was prepared for a fight if need be.

The figure detached itself from the surrounding shadows, slowly raising its hands to the hood shrouding its face. With careful movements, as to not upset the giant of a man that loomed only a few feet away from him, he lowered the hood. In the soft light of the lamp, Antonious held scrutinously upwards a harsh weathered face was revealed. He had hollow cheeks sunk into sandblasted features. Cracked and broken lips pinched together harshly, while a whitened orb of an eye stared blindly upwards. The other eye that did see was completely bloodshot, only thin slashes of hazel betraying any true eye colour through the all purveying crimson.

This man did not look like a threat, but from experience, she knew that the most dangerous men were usually the ones disregarded by the casual observer. If this was some form of grim facade designed to lul her and her comrade into lowering their guard, then more the fool him. Her own blade hung heavy in its scabbard. Unlike her bodyguard's enormous two-handed greatsword, her choice of arms was that of a light fencers blade. It was just longer than the length of her arm, with a wicked tip sharp enough to slip past even the most finely wrought chainmail. Her hand lay on its gilded hilt below her cloak, slender fingers wrapping tenderly around the hilt. She had been trained in combat by none other than the head of House Laurent and had even come close to besting their famed Fiora on one occasion. As much as the obvious threat was the looming tower of muscle and sinew that was Antonious, she was not a defenceless maiden by far.

"Rumour has it..."

The strangers' voice was just as cracked and strained as his face. Each word held the scratchy quality of a throat ravaged by time and sand.

"That you two need... transportation. Across the desert to the promised land of... Shurima"

It took her a moment to realise the man was speaking the Demacian tongue, though debased by foreign accent and dishevelled vocal chord.

"And why should we trust the likes of you crone?"

Shiandra's tone was sharp, brooked no questioning, and demanded only answers. A withered hand departed the man's robe, holding open a palm towards Shiandra.

"Anaua is my name, not crone if it pleases you, and you should trust me because I am the only man capable of taking you to where you desire. Well... the only man foolish enough to"

A jagged gash of a smile broke out across the man's lips, his crazed laughter quickly turning to a dry cough.

Antonious turned slightly to look back at his charge. He clearly did not trust a single word he had heard, but given their luck so far, Shiandra was willing to hear the man out.


	2. Chapter 2: The Journey Begins

The next day the pair found themselves mounting the backs of two rather unfriendly camels. They were both once again donned in the heavy cloaks that kept the blazing sun off their backs and heads and had spent the last hour receiving a crash course of camel riding that had given Shiandra's rear more than a few bruises from harsh impacts on the baked sand. Like all things Antonious took to the task like a fish to water, seemingly born to ride the moment he swung his bulk up upon the foul-tempered beast. More than once Shirandra thought back on the conversation she had had with the stranger Anaua the previous night as his dry cackles drifted through the heat hazed air when she fell off the bucking camel. He had assured them that he could not only transport the two of them safely across the desert to Shurima, but also introduce them once they had arrived in the city. The first part was believable enough, but she barely believed a single word of the latter point. How could this wreck of a man hold any council within the Shuriman empire? It simply wasn't possible.

She had slept well enough after the conversation. A meeting place had been agreed upon and though her mind was swimming with thoughts of betrayal or worse she drifted off in her wooden cot to a mostly dreamless sleep. When she awoke Antonious was already adorned with his plate armour and weaponry, seemingly ready for at least an hour already. She ideally wondered if he had even gone to sleep at all, or if he had simply stayed awake and vigilant for the entire night, it wouldn't have been the first time if he had after all. Once properly prepared she had set out to the arranged meeting location, and started on the gruelling training that had culminated in her sitting rather uncomfortably on the camels back as it swayed drunkenly side to side. Once she was comfortable with her equitation Anaua signalled for the carven to ready to set out.

As expeditionary forces went, she certainly felt the group that Anaua had gathered was wanting. It mainly consisted of four children, all of which looked like a single day without food or water would spell their end. Along with herself, Antonious, and Anaua the only other members of the assembled party was a woman that was somehow even more withered than Anaua. Both her eyes were milky white orbs that stared blankly out across the desert from her place on the back of the supplies cart. When Shiandra mentioned the woman's necessity to Anaua he assured her that she was a vital part of the caravans detail. She had wanted to question more at the time but was quickly ushered away to continue her camel riding lessons and so she missed the chance.

The team assembled now. The four children walked alongside the supply cart that was heavily laden with water, dried rations, and what she could only assume to be merchant products. Two camels pulled the heavy wooden cart, though she supposed that "Cart" might not have been the best term. It was more akin to a Freljordian sledge than any sort of cart she had seen or made use of. Where wooden wheels would have been on a normal construction there was instead wide ski like appendages. Even with its heavy load, it slid with what seemed like the minimal effort from the attached camels, so its design must be founded in experience despite its strange visage. The haggard woman lay bundled up along with the supplies in the back, though now they had set out proper she could be seen holding what appeared to be a staff of sorts that dragged lazily behind the moving vehicle. The staff's tip carved a groove in the sand as it went, and despite the confusion, Shiandra had experienced when first trying to pertain what the woman was doing, she decided that whatever job Anaua had needed her for was being performed. As for Anaua himself, he was sat in the driver's area of the supply sledge. His gnarled hands gripped the sunbleached leather reins that let him steer the wandering camels, the occasional whip snap urging the creatures forward when the pace began to falter. Shiandra and Antonious followed along behind on their makeshift steeds. Antonious keeping a steady pace at the back of the group while Shiandra's distance from the sledge grew and shrunk as she gained and lost control of her mount. She was never out of Antonious's sight however, a fact that gave Shiandra no little comfort in this hostile environment.

Much like every other day they had spent in the outskirts settlement, it was hot. The sun beat down hard on their cloaked backs while the sand shimmered with fiery heat. Looking into the distance was like staring into a pond's reflection of the horizon as heat haze danced and swirled. More than once Shiandra felt herself falling to the urge to call out the sighting of an Oasis, thankfully she wasn't fool enough to blurt out every heat addled thought that crossed her mind. The group mostly travelled in silence other than the occasional mewl from the camel or chatter from one of the boys that walked. When she first saw the boys walking on the searing sands she had cringed. The thought of walking on the molten desert floor in the bare scraps that covered the children's feet had sent empathetic stabs of agony through her feet. None of the children complained, however, or even seemed to notice the heat. She had glimpsed the underside of one of the children's foot when she had cared enough to look. It was black as charcoal. From the burning sands or caked dirt she could not say, either way, it was not a sight she wished to have a repeat viewing of.

They had been travelling for several hours now. The sun was beginning to sink low in the clear cobalt sky, staining it with golden streaks of promised sunset. Three of the children that had broken away from the group an hour or so beforehand returned, one chattering with the leading Anaua in quick barbaric squawk.

"The boy says there is shelter a short distance from her, we shall camp there for the night and continue the journey tomorrow"

Anaua spoke with a tone that brooked no discussion. This was the course of action he was going to take and there were no words an upstart Demacian diplomat could say that would change his mind. Thankfully Shiandra had no quarrel with the course of action, after several hours of riding she had developed quite the sore rear and would relish the chance to retreat from the saddle and nurse her aches and bruises. A short distance had turned into another two hours of riding, however, so by the time the shelter was found day had turned to night, and freezing cold had replaced the searing heat of the day. The shelter in question was a stone outcrop that jutted from the sand, curving upwards and forwards to form a makeshift cave of sorts in the desert. The stone was still warm to the touch even after all heat had left the pitiless sand, and after the camels were secured and camp was set up Shiandra enjoyed a quiet moment pressed up against the back wall. This was no jovial camp of travel companions thankfully. There was no drinking around campfires while unlikely companions shared tales of their heroic deeds. The three boys that had come back from their scoutings sat huddled in a rough group, a hunk of bread being shared around greedy grasping hands along with a waterskin. Anaua and the wizened crone sat together in the back of the supply sledge, their closeness making Shiandra wonder if they were either related or romantically entangled somehow. As for herself and Antonious, they both occupied the deepest part of the shelter. A small meal of bread, cheese, and wine were what they had dined upon earlier, now the pair simply lay back, Shiandra close to falling asleep against the warm touch of the stone on her back.

She awoke. It was still dark, but flecks of morning sunlight could be seen marring the otherwise darkened sky, betraying how close the night was to breaking. She quickly scanned around the camp, the only things worth making note of being the addition of the fourth scout that must have returned sometime during the night. Otherwise, the place was almost exactly as it had been before she had unexpectedly fallen asleep the night before. Antonious kneeled nearby, the quiet shink of a whetstone running along the edge of a blade and the rustle of plate armour betraying the fact that he was awake too. Other than the two Demacian diplomats the entire camp was asleep, a fact Shiandra had no desire to disturb at this exact moment in time.


End file.
